Witch's Final Stand
by Kevin Thomas
Summary: Set after Maskerade, and making abstraction of Carpe Jugulum. Granny Weatherwax is this time on Death's side. An old enemy is reborn and Granny is old. Will she survive this final quest?... DUM-DUM-DUUUUM! Please review:D
1. Witch's Discovery

**Edit before read:** The story that follows is sort of a sequel to my other story, Witch's Folly. However, I have brought the whole thing back on the Discworld as inspiration struck me one day. It does, however, follow where the other left off, and I recommend you read the other one first. Bear in mind that the other one was made for school, for a semestrial project about clichés and I had to adapt:P

Enjoy and possibly review:D

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Tea is good, it invigorates the body. And Granny's body was not what it used to be any more. Although she would never admit it to anyone-it was a surprise that she admitted it to herself- Granny was growing old. She sipped her cup of black tea while staring blankly at the ticking clock above the fireplace. Her mind, however, was not standing still. It was like an atom in void; once you make it move, it will tend to go on forever unless something sturdy enough blocks its path. And nothing good enough had ever appeared to stop Granny's thoughts. She always seemed to have the upper hand. She had always been stronger than anything that tried to place itself between her and her goals. And they have never been bad goals. Looking back, her actions, although admittedly unconventional, had always been for the betterment-the tea tasted nutty just for a second there- of the people around her. She could not be blamed of abusing her power, and boy, she had had a lot of it! And she couldn't say she was powerless now, but some things weren't as they used to be. Her eyesight, for instance was getting worse; she was having trouble seeing the top peak towering the village. And that is something, coming from someone who could spot an eagle soaring high above the clouds on a stormy night. She was getting worried. And to add to that, her Borrowing abilities-not skills, mind you, she was the best, after all, knew every last secret of the trade- were diminishing. She came back to her senses harder than usual and it took longer to blend with the targeted creature. It was also more tiresome; everything becomes more tiresome after a certain age, she knew that, but somehow she had always thought it applied only to other people.

And there was this business with the growing power of the Covenant of Eight. It wasn't even as if they had chosen a nice, proper number. Three, now that she could understand, it always meant that whenever two were fighting the third tried to calm them down, but eight? That was a wizarding number, and it always meant that fights could break off any time there was some kind of disagreement. There was something missing in this whole story. Witches are not well known for getting along very well. There was meant to be someone else in there guiding them from the shadow.

She began pacing around. The sun had set entirely, now. The only source of light came from the small fire burning dismally in the hearth. It made everything throw flickering shadows on the walls. They were quivering, mocking shadows; had they had a face it would have been smug. Granny shot a quick meaningful glance in their direction and they calmed down, like bashful children. Yes, something was amiss. Allice might have been the head of the Covenant, but she surely was not dictating things. And the rabbit; that Letice was a pathetic excuse for a witch. She was not at all the right person to do a job such as taking Granny's license-whose reason she had never been able to understand; it was, after all, merely a piece of paper. It was a suicidal mission for her. But Granny expected that there would be something more to it than that. Sending Letice was surely their idea of punishment for the poor woman. And Allice was the woman to do it. But it was not the right thinking even for someone as cocky and self- sufficient as her. Someone else should have been sent if their real intention was to take Granny's license.

She trotted to the fireplace. The clock had stopped ticking. She tapped it with a finger. It rang dull. Nothing more could be expected of it. But it had been working fine until then. A flicker of light across the glass, a trick of the eye; it couldn't be! She turned the clock face-side down, and hurried with still surprising speed for a woman of her age to the mirror on the wall and covered it.

"AH, I SEE YOU FIGURED IT OUT."

"I had a hunch…" answered a startled Granny. How had Death entered? Well, he never made any sound, that is true, but so far she had sensed him coming-not for her, mind you. Her senses were certainly beginning to dull. "You stopped time, didn't you?" she added on much more Granny-like tones giving him one of her looks.

"YES. A CERTAIN AMOUNT OF PRIVACY IS REQUIRED IN THIS SITUATION…" replied Death and hesitated. After a second he seemed to have made up his mind about something. "I MUST ADMIT I DID HAVE SOME TROUBLE DECIDING WHOM TO TURN TO FOR THIS MATTER. HOWEVER, SEEING THERE IS NO ONE ELSE QUITE AS CAPABLE AND INFORMED AS YOU ARE I HAVE COME TO YOU ASKING FOR AID IN A DELICATE BUSINESS I CANNOT ATTEND TO MYSELF…" he stopped again, looking somewhere else, apparently thinking. He leaned the scythe against the wall where a faint blue glow could be seen in the shadow. He turned to look expectantly at Granny. Feeling some courtesy was in order under these circumstances, she briefly gestured Death to the other chair at the table.

"And why, pray, am I supposed to be the only one able to fulfill this… task, hm? If you haven't noticed yet, I am not as young as I used to be." It was solely a statement. It did not imply any kind of complaint and it did not ask for pity. She sat heavily at the table. For the first time in her life she felt old. A quest… Ye, gods! How much more did she have to do?

"I BELIEVE SOME EXPLANATION IS, INDEED, IN ORDER, BUT YOU HAVE TO UNDERSTAND THAT I CANNOT REVEAL CERTAIN ASPECTS OF IT BECAUSE… WELL…"

"It might bring the world crashing down?"

"THAT IS ONE WAY OF PUTTING IT, YES," answered a relieved Death. For some reason this woman always seemed to make him feel uncomfortable. "YOU REMEMBER, I PRESUME, YOUR SISTER, LILY?"

"Yes…" she gave Death a suspicious one-eyed glare. "What about her?"

"SHE HAS THUS FAR BEEN CAPTURED BY HER OWN MIRRORS. SHE WAS NEITHER DEAD NOR ALIVE, JUST LIVING… AS NO OTHER HUMAN WORD BEFITS IT BETTER… HER OWN HELL."

"She escaped?" Granny's tone was level, but held a warning. She had hoped, and for good reason, that _she_ was to remain wherever _she_ had disappeared for ever. She knew that might have sounded a bit, well, unsound, since they were, after all, sisters, but what of it? You go tinkering with spells and deep magic and you are bound to fall to your own meddling. "How?"

"HAVE YOU EVER HEARD OF THE AUDITORS?" Her look elucidated that mystery. "THE AUDITORS OF REALITY ARE… ENTITIES, IN CHARGE OF MENTAINING UNIVERSAL ORDER. HOWEVER, LATELY THEY SEEM TO HAVE GONE A BIT TOO FAR." He stopped, looking expectantly at Granny.

"Lately means for some time now, if I'm to judge your perception of time, but a bit too far… they broke some laws?" It was a wild guess, since she had never heard of the Odditers before, but she was quite capable of assuming. Being a witch was assuming half the time, but always guessing based on hard evidence. And she did have a clue to what those people were. If Death was worried, then this was dead* serious.

*Not that Granny saw the joke behind this; she was far too literal for that.

"YOU ARE CORRECT. THEY TRY TO KEEP THE UNIVERSE TIDY, PREDICTABLE, DULL, IF I MAY SAY SO MYSELF. HUMANS, AS YOU VERY WELL KNOW, ARE HIGHLY UNSTABLE PARTS OF THE BIG MACHINE THAT IS THE UNIVERSE. THEY HAVE TRIED TO DESTROY MANKIND BEFORE, BUT NEVER WITH SUCH GREAT INVOLVEMENT. THERE ARE CERTAIN… RULES THEY MUST ABIDE BY. THEY ARE, AFTER ALL, PARTS OF THIS UNIVERSE THEMSELVES. HOWEVER, THEY ALWAYS STRETCH THEM ONE STEP FURTHER. AND NOW, I AM AFRAID THEIR ENDEVOURS MIGHT VERY WELL SUCCEED."

"These rules you're talking about… one of 'em things you can't mention?"

"YES."

"They freed her I espect…" she sighed. "If I agree to do this, will I get a nice, quiet place afterwards?" She did sound old; and frail.

"THAT, I CANNOT SAY. YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN DECIDE." She was tired, she was actually tired! Death had seen countless such people while waiting for them to see him. But he had never expected Her to back down. Something had to be done. "HOWEVER, I BELIEVE SOME ARRANGEMENTS CAN BE MADE."

Granny gave him a look. It is hard to outstare empty eye sockets, but that had never deterred Granny. She ruddy well knew Death was not to interfere in one's afterlife. What was He playing at?...

"Fine." It would be an understatement to say that this was a cool reply; it was downright freezing. She might have grown old but she wasn't dead yet! "I'll go. But I'll let you know this: When you come and take me, I'll make your life… death… existance… Hell, before you take me." She said it as level as an abstract mathematical bidimensional plane.

"I DO NOT DOUBT YOU WILL. IF WE ARE UNDERSTOOD, THEN THERE IS ONLY THE MATTER OF THE PLACE. UBERWALD COULD BE A STARTING POINT…" the look He received made him say"…ALTHOUGH YOU WILL DECIDE AS YOU THINK BEST. WELL, I MUST BE GOING." He stood up and went to the door. He turned around. "YOU WOULD NOT HAPPEN TO KNOW A REMEDY FOR RASHES, WOULD YOU?"

"It can be done. Afterwards."

"AH, YES, OF COURSE. WELL THEN, SEE YOU LATER," and he went through the door. The ticking resumed. Granny stared at the spot where He had vanished.

Death was next to Binky when he pulled out a lifetimer from inside his cloak. He gave it a closer look. The sand in the top half was nearing depletion. The black frame with a stunningly live-like rose motif was glistening in the moonlight. He tapped the bottom half and a grain rose through the tumbling others back into the first half. He kept watching. Another one rose again. And another one. If they were breaking the rules, so was he.

Granny got up. She trotted towards the mirror and took a peak behind the cloth she had thrown to cover it; nothing. She was suspicious, very suspicious. Well, she was usually like that, but now more than ever. Death could not meddle. So this went beyond ordinary witchcraft. Well, she was no ordinary witch. And she felt smug inside for knowing that. But an idea was nagging at the back of her mind. What if she died? Oh, she knew she had to die sometime, but she had always pictured herself dying with her consent. Well, she could leave that aside for the moment. She had to do the Right thing again.

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What follows will become clear to me as soon as the exams are finished:P. Until then, Ta-ta!


	2. Obscurity

This is a second chapter, offering a glimpse of what is happening elsewhere on the Disc. It's short but intense, I hope:D

Enjoy and remember, reviews are highly appreciated!

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Obscurity

The witch in front of the crystal* throne was cowering. It was only normal, she had all the reasons to.

"So you say Letice was just eaten by a wolf?" The tone was calm, the look was bearable, yet something in the demeanor, some puny detail that escaped even the most thorough scrutiny was cutting through the defenses of the witch in front like a glass shard through an unsuspecting eye. "And why, pray, were you not able to help her, having in mind that I sent you both on this task?" The 'pray' seemed to take on a far more serious meaning that normal in that situation and the cowering witch winced when she heard it.

* It certainly resembled crystal, but a keen eye, namely that of the dwarf glazier who built it, would notice the fine diamond shafts fluidly interwoven into the entirety of the throne, that, if set aside, could match the strongest cage ever known.

"I...I-I... tried, but for some reason my spell backaaahh... I mean something made it jump from the blasted wolf to Letice and... well... she just turned into a meat-chop! Then Death came and..."

"I see." A pause ensued, during which the half-concealed figure on the throne stared blankly away from the now kneeling witch in front of it. "I wonder," it continued quietly, "if you are familiar to the methods of witch-torturing." The witch shuddered and nodded. "As I recall," the figure continued impassively, "the most common one is burning the accused woman, be she witch or just a hated old, lonely woman, on a large pyre in the middle of the village or town square." Nod, nervous squeak. "I also recall that this was a fairly poor deterrent against true witches." Nod, shudder, fall on hands and knees. "Then I assume you will kindly pass by the torture chamber and ask the man there to take out the iron maiden and safely seal you in, least you cause any more... unfortunate incidents." Nod, tears quietly pouring, standing up as a puppet on strings, apparently swimming the way out of the mirror hall.

"Pathetic," the figure thought, slowly reaching out towards the golden goblet on the glass table next to the chair. The black velvet cloak slid aside one fraction of an inch to unveil a surely* human hand and the tiniest flicker of glassy sheen. The figure, whose voice was uncertainly familiar, but had a strange resonance as to be anything possible, drank thirstily a clear, viscous substance that glowed faintly yellow. "Refreshing, I might say, would you not agree, dear?" thought the figure out loud. The voice had a slight vibrato quality to it, as a fine crystal glass resonating when touched. "Yes, quite so, my lady!" it replied to itself. But the voice now seemed normal, if submissive. "I believe we shall have to find someone else to replace her. Deary me, who shall we use?" "I wish to be of service madam..." "Alas you can't, child, it is more than one could wish for, what you have already been doing, and I am thankful for that. No, no, a solution must be found, and..." A pause as short as a breath preceded a sigh, a kind one, as the whole tone of voice itself, like the soft voice a mother would use when having her patience put to the test by the curious little bugger trying to understand how the Disc spins at the age of five. "We shall have, I believe, to start all over again." "Yes, madam." "I shall have to summon them again."

*Limbs that look human can be found on many unhuman individuals, i.e. vampires, werewolves, undead, and other morphic-field challenged, or uncertainly living respectively. However, this one was definitely human.


	3. The First Step

This time a slightly longer chapter. Back to the Granny perspective.

**Enjoy and review, please:D**

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The treacle light of the Discworld sun was slowly smearing the landscape. Granny woke up as the first drops of it hit her windows with an unheard "gloop". A crow was pecking at the window incessantly. It was the same bird she had used so often lately. The world seemed at ease with itself. It was the usual wolf-eat-rabbit place she had become accustomed to. But recent events, i.e. the visit from Death, had their own weight on Granny's mind.

She had made all preparations for this journey. A bag full of clean lingerie, a couple of odds and ends and, against her better judgment, a part of a mirror. She had all the hair pins stuck in her hat, and...

"Oh, all right, you little bugger, I'm on my way!" The crow was starting to become annoying. So, where was she... Ah, yes, the list of things to do. Well, not much of a list, really; a witch always planned ahead, if a "whatever will be, will be" can be called planning forward, but even this was quite a two liner:

Goe see Magrat and Nanny.

Goe to Uberwalde.

The 'plan' was simple enough; she was going to talk to Magrat 'the Queen' and tell her she will be missing a witch for an indefinite time, and then she was going to take Nanny with her by telling her not to follow. She knew very well that Gytha could tell when she used headology, but she didn't mind. It made the whole thing easier.

After feeding the crow some old quail eggs the bird thought were eyes, Granny took her hat and her hood – Uberwald is well known for its fogs and cold, windy storms – and set off towards the palace.

The gates of the castle – actually the big doors, since the castle had no looming, impressive gates – were guarded as usual by the ever faithful Shawn Ogg.

"Granny Weatherwax!" he saluted, hitting his overlarge helmet too hard and swaying a little while fumbling for the trumpet. To Granny's displeasure he started blowing a rather tuneless melody, a requirement, no doubt of King Verence. Well, she was bloody well not going to stand for this!

"Shawn, you ain't blowing that trumpet every time I'll enter a room! And no buts, young man!" Granny was firm, if not mountain-still, and Shawn's face sagged along with his trumpet.

"But..." A sharp look from Granny and he was quiet. The witch always gave him the willies. He fought his way through the maze of doors and rooms and corridors, taking, as always, his responsibilities a little too seriously, and, out of breath, finally opened the door to the Queen's chamber. Magrat was at a wooden table, surrounded by papers that had a certain official look to them. She raised her head when they entered just in time to see Shawn give the last, and now shaky, traditional bow after opening a door. She sighed.

"Shawn, how many times have I told you, you don't have to ceremoniously open every door on someone's way." The man had his nerves stretched to the limits. Since Verence had started reading all about kingship and began assigning new tasks to Shawn, the poor man had become a trifle loony. And this was all due to the typical Lancre literal thinking. It was one thing to say "All personnel must take a reverential bow in the presence of important guests," and a whole other to understand "Since you are almost any and all personnel, you must do all of these things every time you enter a room." It was demanding too much of the poor man.

"My lady, Mistress..." began Shawn still trying to regain his breath.

"Yes, Shawn, I know who it is. You may go."

Shawn tripped, got back up, and, swaying, managed to get out and close the door. Granny was standing stiffly, watching this charade with an impassive, if a bit too so, face.

"We must talk." It was more than an assertion, it was a command.

"Yes, Granny, what is it, I'm a bit..." The Look, Magrat was getting the Look.

"I see queening is starting to get to your head." Again, the same kind of simple phrase that sounded like an exclamation when processed by the brain.

"Granny, I've really been busy, what with all the new things Verence wants to do and all, and..."

"Yes, yes, it can wait. There's a problem that needs solving..."

"If you're suggesting I come, you..." She interrupted Granny, she actually cut her off! No one had ever got away with that. And she was one step away of calling her daft. Maybe queening was getting to her head. Magrats heart was sinking faster than the Titanic. "... I mean I can't just leave all this!" But she was the Queen, for gods' sakes. "You will have to take Nanny only."

"Magrat Garlick! You watch your tone, or I'll just go and tell you nothing more! Didn't Gammer Beavis..."

"May she rest in peace..."

"... may she rest in peace, yes, didn't she ever tell you to show respect to older witches?" Granny was furious. The nerve!

"Yes, Granny, but I also think that a Queen..."

"Yes, a 'queen'." The tone was blunt, axe-blunt, however, which doesn't count when a 50 pounds blade reaches your neck at full speed. A pause. Magrat knew what Granny meant. She looked in those blue eyes and saw, besides fury, something else, some flicker of... but there was nothing there anymore. Granny was good at headology, after all. She should have known she couldn't have, shouldn't have looked there.

"It's serious, isn't it?" Magrat's tone was softer, almost bashful.

"You can bloody well bet it is! But since you are a queen now, not a witch, I'll not bother you with unimportant things like the destruction of the Disc. I'm leaving!" And I may not be coming back, was what her mouth was itching to say, but a witch knows better. "Good day!" and Granny turned to leave.

"Wait! I... I'm sorry... I didn't mean to..." Magrat sounded downright mournful, now. She'd got nasty replies before, but never like this. This _was_ serious.

"Well, you'd better be sorry!" Granny stopped and looked at the young woman for a second. Magrat had always been soppy, and Granny'd never liked it, and now that she was finally building up some courage, some self esteem, Granny was stopping her. "Death came," she went on, on far softer tones, "and asked me to take care of a certain matter."

"Death? Black cowl and scythe and all?

"Yes, of course him, who else?" Sigh. "I must first find out what's goin' on and then I must fix it. The bad part is that I can't tell you any more, or the universe'll come crashing down on us."

"Is it that serious?" Curiosity and awe were clear in Magrat's voice. She was being soppy again.

"Serious, yes, that the universe'll end, I doubt it. I think He just didn't want me to spread the word too much." Before Magrat could say anything, Granny lifted a finger to shut her down. She took a good look at the room, cursing the fact that she'd forgotten to do this before, and, seeing no mirror, she let down her arm. "You've got no mirror?"

"No, Verence took the old one and had a new one made in Ankh-Morpork. He said he wanted me to have a mirror fit for a queen." She couldn't help blushing and she smiled shyly.

"You should postpone the new mirror." Granny looked at Magrat sideways and loosened up a bit. "I just wanted you to know that I'll be gone and I don't know when" or if, she thought, "I'm coming back." She turned to leave, then, remembering something, she stopped. "Has anyone come to take your license, by any chance?"

"No, a witch came a couple of days ago, though, to try to tell me more about those pieces of paper. I sent her off."

"Good. Did she say where she was from?" Magrat gave Granny a narrow-eyed look.

"No, why?"

"That's none of your business. Anyway, I'm sure you'll keep the country safe while I'm gone."

"Of course!" A touch of pride filled Magrat's voice.

"Good, 'couse you'll be alone." Granny turned and walked away. Magrat was frowning.

"What do you...? Oh!" But her shout was for nothing. Granny had left already. She was now alone. She was standing. She gave the papers on the desk a far-away look.

"Verence! Verence! About that mirror..."


	4. The second step

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Granny makes her final stop on her way to accomplishing Death's task. Will she persuade Granny to come? I am very sorry for the prolongued break from posting, but this summer there was no lucrative time to do so.

_Enjoy and please review:D_

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Granny was walking through the village. She was being watched. She could feel it in the back of her head. And it wasn't the villagers who were staring intensely at her, because they always did that. There was someone else, some other presence, hard to identify, let alone, pinpoint, unlike the villagers. They averted their gaze every time she looked at them, they were afraid. She had never taken the time to see this. Of course she knew about this, but she had always taken it for granted, she had thought it came with the witching; what people don't understand, they fear. And it was fine, but now… After having spoken to Death himself, she was suddenly aware of things she had hitherto shunned. Yes, witching meant understanding people, it meant headology, heck, all the time, but even a witch is human, and humans have always had the bad habit of overlooking the obvious. Granny was ashamed; she had shut away the thought of being genuinely feared by the people because of her power, because of who she was. Then again, maybe she had always been aware of it, but in the light of recent events a new understanding had dawned. Or maybe she had accepted, or even secretly enjoyed the feeling of power that being feared for what she could do offered. Her face let the faintest shadow of disgust darken her features for the briefest moment. It was a terrible thought indeed. But she couldn't, she surely wouldn't! She felt weak for even considering it. She was old.

Nanny's house was…Granny's mood would have liked it to be looming, but it was just there. A couple of storeys high, with more different curtains than windows – due to the large number of nameless daughters-in-law – the house was the most well known in the village. Everyone knew where Nanny lived. Well, everyone knew where Granny lived, too, but out of a completely different reason, namely, out of need and fear, rather than for the parties or family bonds. Granny was famous for her witchcraft, and everyone needed her skills some time in their life. Also, children were always warned never to go near her cottage, lest something terrible happens to them, hence the ground around her cottage always presented small, human footprints. It was not fair, Granny thought, but then again, what was? She knew that, and never deemed any different.

She breathed in and went around the back of the house. She raised her hand to open the door when it opened to reveal the beaming face of Nanny. Her cheeks were red and a slight whiff of brandy floated smugly around her.

"Hiya, Esme! Our Jason tole' me you're coming. His cousin Marc told 'im, and he was tole' by…"

"Yes, yes, Gytha," Granny wasn't exactly in the mood for it. However, neither was Nanny.

"C'mon, chher up! 'Ere, come in!" Nanny led Granny a little unsurely to a chair in the kitchen.

"Gytha, you're drunk." Granny sounded concerned, which wasn't like her. Nanny took notice. She tried sobering up. Damn that alcohol! Actually, don't damn it, it's too good to be damned, but right now she didn't need it in her system. The situation was serious. Granny only sounded like that when something was troubling her. And very little did trouble Granny. Greebo was watching them lazily from the comfort of his not-so-fluffy-anymore pillow in the corner.

"Where're you going?"

"I'm not sure, yet. Uberwald was one suggestion." Granny said it on a matter-of-fact tone, but her look was holding a big sign saying "I want to say more, but you will have to rip that information from me first."

"So I take the Reaper paid you a visit?" Nanny was sly. To any normal person, the question would have seemed improbable. However, Granny was nonplussed.

"Who died?"

"Bershka, while giving birth to her fifth. I couldn't do much; you know how weak she'd always been. It's a surprise she lived up to have five in the first place.

"Yes…" Granny waited for the next question, but it seemed as if it wasn't going to come. When, after a rather embarrassing silence, she decided to lead the discussion, they spoke at once.

"I'd like to…"

"You cannot…"

"Very well, me first", said Nanny jovially. "I'd like to wish you a safe trip." Granny was, if not shocked, at least mildly surprised. "Now you." A grin was barely concealed in Nanny's wrinkles.

"So you don't want to come? Not that I'd let you, but… " was all Granny could come up with at that moment.

"Well, since I knew you'd start telling me not to come, I thought, you know, why bother asking?" Nanny was very sly, indeed.

"Oh, well, no reason why I should be staying any more, then, is there?" However, so was Granny. "I've got a long trip ahead, so I'd better be goin' " Nanny had been caught off-guard.

"Couldn't you tell me anything about it?"

"What for, you're not coming anyway. And besides, someone needs to stay here to watch over the folk when I'm gone."

"I see…" So it's when, not while… well, if that's the game Granny wanted to play, Nanny could join, too.

"Very well, then, safe trip once more! May you be watched over!"

"I hope I won't be, thank you all the same." Granny was proud of her friend. "Well, I'd better be going, then. See you at Hogswatch!"

"Don't forget to bring some pudding, if you're coming!" Even now, Nanny had to be practical.

"I will!" And Granny left, Greebo eyeing her from the window, now, watching her trot away on the cobbles, an old woman with the soul of a phoenix. Actually this comparison never crossed the tom cat's mind, but, then, again, who cares?

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_Now that Granny has finally set off, what will await for her on her way? Well, hopefully, I'll be able to satisfy your, and most importantly my curiosity in short time:D_


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